


Catching Spiders

by Snowy_Rain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (as much as i can manage it anyway), Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Apocalypse, Bullying, Dark, Depressed Harry Potter, Falling In Love, Father Figure/Older Brother Harry, Fear of Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Harry is fucked up now but guess what Tom likes that, I Don't Even Know, Is Harry Potter A Horcrux? Who Knows?, Loss Of Sensation, M/M, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Master of Death Harry Potter, Obsession, Okay ahem this is going through surprising and massive changes, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Tom Riddle, Pre-Apocalypse, Sensory Deprivation, The First Chapter Is No Longer Relevant, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wool’s Orphanage, Young Tom Riddle, and obsession, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2020-07-27 08:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20043334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy_Rain/pseuds/Snowy_Rain
Summary: Harry Potter reaches the beginning of an apocalypse without the ability to die. He exists ceaselessly — until something pulls him out of his hell.Death asks for his wish — Harry asks for a chance to live again.This is how he finds himself in 1926, New Year’s Eve, with Merope Gaunt’s soul leading him to her still-warm body.





	1. "Hunger", unused excerpt

**Author's Note:**

> This was a future chapter’s part, but I have refined the plot so much that it’s not relevant anymore :/ Have at it though

“What do you want?!” Harry screams at him.

Crazy. _ Crazy! _ Here Harry is: Life in ruins, hanging by the thread, about to lose his fucking _ mind _– and all Riddle minds is cornering him against the rose bushes, pacing like a madman out for blood.

Harry wants _ nothing _to do with him. After everything he’s been through, he needs peace more than anyone else in this castle. Does he not deserve his time to grieve?

“You,” Harry stammers in his messy rage. “I – There’s nothing I can do for you. I’m no one, I’m not even a lost heir. Just go away and – leave me _ alone.” _

“I _ can’t,” _Riddle tells him, looking none too pleased. “You aren’t wrong, Potter. There’s no benefit to associating with you, I am very much aware of that fact. Yet…”

He trails off as his eyes do, caught up unexpectedly on Harry’s rose-ripped appendages.

There is a feeling, all known though not much discussed, that tells of the hopeless desire to _ ingest _ a soul. It lays somewhere on our bone-levels, too deep to access freely and too ingrained to get rid of. It originates from a time when _ eating _ meant to _ own, _ to _ devour _ meant to _ rule. _ Of kings and nobles who consumed the haggard masses and laid unsated upon their piles of riches, revelling in their lust for _ more. _ Greed and the instinct of survival go hand in hand, after all – there would be no one more in need of it than the humankind itself, a parasite who _ eats. _

_ To the root. _

Voldemort, in his quest for immortality, had stumbled upon a fatal mistake. While he sought to shed his human layers, he forgot that as the rule of _ matter, _ beneath the layers of a human was the _ base _ of a human. By principle, it left him with the ugly essentials of a man who could not control himself, who gave into his vicious wants. Voldemort, in his final form, was a human to _ pity. _

And Harry felt fear, the first in a long while, at the look upon Tom Marvolo Riddle’s face. One could say that no one is evil at heart, that no one is born destined to rip apart.

But what could we say about our _ inner wants? _

Tom Riddle looked at him with the face belonging to Voldemort. He gazed at Harry, and in his gaze, was the _ sweet _ , short request to _ simply _…

**…** ** _chew._ **

“I could use a thousand words describing it to you,” Tom Riddle tells him. An expression of countless emotions sits upon his features – Harry dares not interpret it. “But I could not explain the shapeless dimensions of the _ urge _ in me. Humans talk about their _ starvation, _a hunger for food so powerful they stuff their stomachs full. The lining is flexible inside the organ, did you know? It can keep on expanding, expanding, expanding… I think you and I both know what lies at the end of this gluttonous endeavour.”

“A severe stomach pain?” Harry inquires, more to hide his growing fear than as an honest question.

Tom Riddle smiles at him. “If that is what you’d rather think.”


	2. Apocalypse - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End has come. Harry and Ginny talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! This is pretty short for a first chapter i guess (1450 words or so) but I had an opportunity to post, so...
> 
> Please enjoy! (Even if there isn't much to enjoy.)

_ Ignoring the apocalypse didn’t stop it. _

_Harry, in his _**_ultimate _**_wisdom, had taken on the motto ‘out of sight, out of mind’ with a futile hope. In a world where everything moved, where the beings were dynamic and living, the impending _**_ending _**_was easy to overlook. Stray your eyes, blind your ears, and for_ _the love of Merlin: Do not talk about the flying islands._

_ The Earth had begun crumbling shortly after the 2070s. Soil, like gaseous matter, had risen from the continent lands without warning, like a patchwork of upheaval strewn across the surface world. Muggle authorities had had to handle panicked nations, yet the Wizarding World was awfully silent. _

_ What no one knew was that the Ministry had a very special branch just for this event. With the collaboration of the Department of Mysteries and the law enforcement, magical Britain lived peacefully, even if it was only for a short while. It did not last long, nor did it help anything. _

_ There was no escape, there was no prevention. There was no way to reverse the disaster that started. So they lived, afraid, resigned, and desperate. Religious groups rose, but they were quickly shut down by the very apocalypse they worshipped. Governments sought to do damage-control, all for naught. _

_ Harry? He was at home, hiding in a closet at the corner. _

_ Throughout his childhood, the only truly safe place for him had been the very cupboard his relatives had imprisoned him in. He could run for the park, but it was just a temporary measure. The darkness of the dust was more reliable than the warmth of sunshine, it had always been that way. _

_ So Harry - despite his vows of not relapsing again - had hidden himself among the cleaning supplies once more, feeling a wave of deja vu roll through him. Like a child, scared but hopeful, he had felt the unavoidable ending come closer than ever. At that moment, the vulnerability of his own situation was enough to scare him to stillness. _

_ “Harry?” he had heard from outside, a set of light footsteps approaching the door. The voice had a soft timbre, one belonging to an old woman. “Oh Harry, come out now. Things will be okay.” _

_ “Go away, Ginny.” _

_ There was an audible huff behind the door, and the wood creaked as Ginny leaned on it. Harry felt guilt that he was making her push herself, yet he couldn’t bring himself to turn the knob. _

_ Ginny could, he knew, but she didn’t. Harry knew as much as  _ ** _she _ ** _ did that any of them could unlock a door with a flick of their wands. But Ginny - sweet, considerate, kind, mellowed with age - let him have his silliness.  _

_ “...I had all these weird thoughts,” he started to ramble. He had no aim, nothing to say but the bittersweet memories of youth. “I’d dream of so many things, so many wild things. Yet I still could not think of magic, in that dark cupboard. I only had me, myself and… I.” _

_ “You aren’t alone anymore, dear.” _

_ Harry shook his head knowing she would not see. “You’re wrong. No matter how much I’d  _ ** _wish _ ** _ for it, no matter how much I  _ ** _tried, _ ** _ there was always a barrier between others and I. It’s not just strangers either! My colleagues, my friends, my  _ ** _children-_ ** _ ” He pauses for a brief second. “ _ ** _You._ ** _ ” _

_ “If I was in there, you know that I’d slap you with my slipper.” _

_ That surprised a laugh out of him. He could imagine his wife behind the door, smiling ever so gently, teasing. _

_ “I know that there are things we haven’t talked about yet,” she told him. “Heck, we’ve been married for  _ ** _decades _ ** _ but this is the first time we’ve talked about this. What happened to us, Harry?” she asked, helplessness laden in her voice. “What happened to us?” _

_ Harry could not answer. _

* * *

_ But things were not okay, and Harry did not talk with Ginny. Contrary to what he himself thought, the world outside was far more dangerous than he had last heard it was. Where once wizards would wander the streets with wary eyes, then instead they did not go out unless their supplies were depleted. Humanity was collapsing, and the Earth had collapsed already, taking out chunk by chunk from its own flesh as everything broke apart. _

_ And Harry, he still did not leave home. _

_ His sons and daughter visited from time to time, trying to cheer him up. Harry pitied them, for they already had their own worries, their own struggles to contend with - yet they were dealing with his as well. He pitied the  _ ** _guilt _ ** _ they felt, the burden of their  _ ** _responsibility _ ** _ to him. Though Harry wished for their peace, he could not prevent the  _ ** _disaster _ ** _ from happening. _

_ So Harry sighed, and retreated back. Still showing the face of his youth, still scared of what the future will bring. _

** _(Scared of if the future will be.)_ **

* * *

_ “Harry, Harry-” He woke up. “- Harry! We need to run!” _

_ “Ginny?” he mumbled, still sleep-addled. “Huh?” _

_ “The world’s dying! We have to go!” _

_ With a flick of her wand, she levitated him and headed downstairs out of their bedroom. Blinking, Harry tried to decide whether this was a dream or not. Was he seeing? Was he imagining? Was the tremor of his sight a sign of sleep, or a sign of reality? With crust on his eyelashes, he attempted to right himself in the air. “Ginny?” _

_ “Harry,” she hissed. “We don’t have time! You need to walk by yourself!” _

_ Flailing a bit, Harry stammered, “Wait, I - Ginny! This is real, right? They are - it’s the  _ ** _End?_ ** _ ” _

_ “It’s the  _ ** _Apocalypse!_ ** _ ” _

_ No. _

_ It could not  _ ** _be. _ ** _ There was - this wasn’t  _ ** _meant _ ** _ to be! It was still unfathomable, stuck unmoving in the wrinkles of his brain. What did an  _ ** _End _ ** _ mean? By human nature, the concept of  _ ** _deletion _ ** _ was nearly nonexistent. One could not “think” of  _ ** _dying. _ **

_ Death was a mystery not meant to be solved, unexperienceable. The emptiness of matter, the hollow bones of consciousness. Death meant  _ ** _not existing._ **

_ Death meant  _ ** _The End._ **

_ Ginny let go of the spell, and Harry fell to the stone floor without warning. She was hurrying to gather everything and run, but where to? _

_ Harry, for the first time the one who was calm, reached out to her, “Ginny.” _

_ “Let go of me, Harry; I have to floo Lily and Albus, James already called-” _

_ “You know we are going to die.” _

_ Her breath hitched, hands trembling in fear. Slowly, she let herself be embraced by him. It did not induce feelings of comfort, nor did it relieve her hysterical panic, but at least he could let her know he was  _ ** _there. _ ** _ For her.  _

_ When they died, they would be together. _

_ “Of all the things,” Ginny muttered into his chest. “It had to be this. You know? I’m so…  _ ** _helpless. _ ** _ I have to move, but it almost feels like I  _ ** _can’t. _ ** _ I can’t breathe, I can’t feel my hands, I can’t feel my breathing - and it feels like I’m  _ ** _dying. _ ** _ But I can’t yet. You know?” _

_ Harry closes his eyes in defeat, heart so heavy. Caressing her hair, “It hardly feels real to me. It’s like a dream that will be over in moments. And I’ll be waking up to you - to your happy face, to our children laughing in the living room.” _

_ She hummed. A distant tremor shook the floor, the windows rattling from the vibrations. Harry glanced outside, outside where the sky was fading into black. The atmosphere was disappearing. _

_ “Do you know what I think?” Harry told her. This was it. This was probably the last time he could talk to her. Their last minutes. “I think we’ll be happy.” _

_ “Do you?” _

_ “I do,” he affirmed. “I think, in the end, we will all gather. We will look at each other and see the deepest depths of our hearts, the essence of our souls, and we won’t be able to hate each other at all. Then our souls will become one, and we will feel fulfilled. I think and hope, with all my being, that we won’t be alone, we won’t be gone.” _

_ “Will Mom be there? Will your mom?” _

_ “Of course. And our friends too. And our grandchildren. And everyone else. And we will be alright, we will be fine. We will be together, and we will be at peace. The End.” _

_ “The End,” Ginny echoed, derision in her voice. “The End. How could an ending be happy? It just - it feels too surreal. I don’t think I can believe it right now.” _

_ Harry stared at the black sky through the window with sadness in his eyes. “It won’t matter soon.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!


	3. The Air In Chalice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Universe is done for but Harry's fate is another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been putting this off :) I've been a bit sad cause this thing deserves long and awesome chapters but that is not what I'm capable of ;v;

_ The atmosphere was gone. _

_ The windows exploded outwards and air left the room in the blink of an eye. Pressure was gone and the air left his lungs without a chance to inhale, chest depressing concave and blood rushing to his head, his feet and hands. _

_ His skin was on fire, where there was no fire but the blotchy, swelling patches on his skin and the bubbling right underneath. He was --  _ ** _He was dying_ ** _ , he surely was! Sizzling filled his ears and he lost himself in fever -- sweltering, burning and smelling of rot and ozone and charcoal. _

* * *

_ He came back to himself with a start, whole body set on flames and melting, melting,  _ ** _MELTING--_ **

_ Trying to scream out in agony, he couldn’t see and he couldn’t hear but he could _ ** _ feel _ ** _ and he could  _ ** _try to breathe. _ ** _ Air wasn’t anywhere, there was nothing to breathe but-- _

_ He took a deep, burning breath of the dense gases in the vacuum, and felt faint at the poisonous clouds running in his bloodstream. Soon enough, again, he could not handle it. _

* * *

_ When he awakened once more, it was to the feeling of something liquid but hard -- crawling all over his skin, smoothing into him, melding with him --  _ ** _he was melting, his skin and meat and bones, everything became sludge and hot, runny rock and he couldn’t even make a sound._ **

_ And then, as he melted into Earth’s crumbling molten core, he could swear he felt his brain turn to mush and leaked out of his eyes, nose and ears. _

* * *

_ It was colder outside, when he rose to conscious this time. It was ice and numbness and burning chill -- but the  _ ** _inside boiled and breathed hot breathe in him. _ ** _ He could not breathe, yet again, and he was mildly aware he was floating away somewhere dark. _

_ All the while, his muscles clenched and popped out and blood welled up under his skin, creating red bruises. The fire bubbled in his veins and showed up on his skin like a horrifying, sick potion in a cauldron. _

* * *

** _“WE MEET AGAIN.”_ **

* * *

_ He was held from his hands and pulled up, up,  _ up--

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes, it was not to the endless darkness and the fire, but to the gray-scale tones of a vast field. A field of nothing. When he moved his head, the scenery did not change, the dullness did not change; it almost gave the illusion of blindness, if it wasn’t for the grays and whites. 

When he looked down, he wanted to jolt -- there wasn’t a body there, neither could he  _ feel  _ it. He tried to kick and flail but no,there were no results at all.

_ HARRY. _

What was that voice?

He tried to see, but wherever he looked and wherever he twisted to, there was still nothing but an endlessness awaiting him.

_ HOW AMUSING YOU ARE. _

_ Who are you,  _ Harry moved his lips to say. However, they were not there either. Nothing was. He was not there but he was?

He tried to shrug away this sluggish, encompassing nothingness. Nothing was working. He still could not see, could not touch, could not feel -- and he certainly could not hear, he realized through his mounting horror. Sound was gone, the ringing of ears in silence was gone too. There was nothing to hear anymore but the disembodied messages.

_ TAKE YOUR TIME,  _ the voice said.  _ I CAN WAIT.  _ ** _YOU _ ** _ CAN CERTAINLY WAIT. _

_ Where am I, where am I, where am I;  _ his thoughts echoed with panic.  _ Who are you and where am I? _

_ IT IS SIMPLE. THE UNIVERSE DIED AT LAST. _

** _What?_ **

_ EXASPERATING AS WELL, I SEE. YOUR UNIVERSE EXPLODED. I CAME TO COLLECT YOU AND FOUND YOU DRIFTING IN SPACE. _

Drifting in  _ space? _

_ YOU COULD NOT CONVERSE IN YOUR STATE,  _ it said.  _ SO I TOOK YOU OUT OF IT. _

_ Out of what,  _ he wanted to ask.

_ THE UNIVERSE. YOU ARE CURRENTLY IN A STATE OF NOTHING. BUT YOU  _ ** _CAN _ ** _ TALK. I MADE IT SO. _

Harry waited for a brief,  _ long  _ moment. He did not know what to think, what to  _ feel.  _ He wanted to cry -- to release everything in himself and become nothing at all.

But nothing happened. Of course it didn’t.

_ SO TALK.  _ In a distant corner of his mind, Harry could almost hear the laughter.  _ WE HAVE FOREVER. _

* * *

Harry tried to talk. It was maddening to speak without a mouth, to try and form the letters only to choke on vacuum and his own lack of lungs. During his asphyxiation episodes, he spent the whole duration trying to make sense of a world without anything in it, with  ** _Death’s voice _ ** within him.

_ YOUR RAMBLINGS ARE ENTERTAINING,  _ Death had mentioned in one of them.  _ THEY REMIND ME OF YOUR WORLD. _

Ha.  _ Ha.  _

Harry was not in the mood to play to its tune. He was drowning in himself, in death and  _ inexistence _ . He felt like was  _ dying. _

He did not want to laugh at such a cruel thing.

_ YOU AND YOUR DELICATE SENSIBILITIES,  _ Death grouched.  _ I AM MERELY HAVING FUN. _

He wanted to answer with something snarky, but he was trying to breathe as if stuck on record. A broken, useless record that could not die.

_ I’m dying. _

_ YOU ARE NOT. YOU CAN NOT DIE. _

_ I want to die. _

Harry felt Death brush curiously against his soul, and began to scream soundlessly in revulsion.

_ DO YOU REALLY? I DO NOT THINK SO. THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK, WILL YOU? YOU HAVE YET TO BECOME MINE. _

Laughter.  _ Laughter  _ everywhere, around him, inside him--

_ SO TALK. TALK UNTIL YOU ARE READY TO REALLY DIE. I WILL LET YOU. _

* * *

_ Do you believe in time travel,  _ he wanted to ask in his madness. Numb had become his constant state whether he wanted or not. He tried to keep thinking of the past, the happy memories and the sad and everything in between. His parents. His children. His wife. His in-laws. Hermione. The Dursleys.  ** _Voldemort._ **

_ IF I GAVE YOU AN APPLE AND ASKED IF YOU BELIEVE IN EATING IT, WOULD IT MAKE SENSE TO YOU? _

Did he  _ eat  _ it?

A laugh. The timbre and the tingling gravel. The up and down cycle of the frequencies, translated directly into his mind.  _ HOW FUN. WHAT A NICE IDEA.  _

_ Wasn’t a suggestion. _

_ YES. YOU DID NOT MEAN IT. IT IS AMUSING.  _

Without pausing for silence, Death talked again.

_ YOU DESIRE WHAT YOU HAD BEFORE. _

It probes deeper, sinks lower than before.

_ NO,  _ it corrects itself.  _ YOU DESIRE WHAT YOU DID NOT HAVE BEFORE. _

_ I don’t know.  _ ** _I don’t know._ **

_ DO YOU WISH IT?  _

Harry felt…  _ excitement.  _ Would Death consider it? Would he allow him?

_ YOU WANT TO RELIVE LIFE. WHY NOT? YOU CAN NOT HIDE FROM ME. YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOUR REACH IS LIMITED. I SHALL LET YOU HAVE YOUR FUN. THE ENDING WILL HAPPEN NO MATTER HOW THE STORY RUNS ITS COURSE. _

Harry slips, slips,  _ slips down-- _

_ BREATHE, HARRY. DRINK THE AIR IN YOUR CHALICE. _

* * *

** _...Ah._ **

** _Was there anything better than a gulp of breath?_ **

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mm


	4. The Baby’s Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is led back by a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry, but this thing took a complete turn and now the plot is kind of different — sure, we’re gonna get to the “hunger” thing but much, _much_ later.
> 
> In the meanwhile, I hope you enjoy the bite-sized chapters! (This one is 2,9k or something)

“And this will lead me to the past?” Harry asked him.

_ IT WILL LEAD YOU TO WHENEVER YOU NEED IT TO. _

He gazed deep into the black hole, the edges so clear-cut from the white expanse that it was impossible to see where the line blurred and where the portal started.

_ IT IS NOT A PORTAL, _ Death refuted him.  _ PORTAL IS AN INADEQUATE WORD FOR IT. _

Well, discussing the word choice for it was not the way to leave.

Harry shut up about it.

Death chortled at him and his schemes.  _ YOU BEND TOO QUICKLY. HOW ELSE WILL I GET MY ENTERTAINMENT? _

“It’s not fun if it’s at the expense of someone else’s happiness.”

_ OR PERHAPS YOU ARE SAYING THAT BECAUSE YOU ARE THE VICTIM? WHATEVER YOU WISH TO BELIEVE — DO NOT BLAME ME FOR YOUR INTRICACIES. _

_ Intricacies? _

...No matter how vague Death talked, Harry didn’t try to decipher his chatter. Instead, he focused his attention on the portal before him.

_ A gate to the living world, _ he desired with all his hunger. Ginny was there, James was there, Luna was there, Albus was there. 

Sunshine was there. Breathing existed there. Bodies were real there.

There, where the grass was truly green — compared to this desolate famine land...

“So how does this work exactly?”

_ ONE DEATH OPENS IT — ONE LIFE CLOSES. _

Was he supposed to go now?

Harry’s heart —  _ what he guessed it was _ — constricted tight. He was drowning again, sinking deep into the sweet hysteria he knew by heart now.

_ BIRTHS AND GRAVES, WEEPING AND WEEPING. WHAT DOES IT MATTER, HARRY? YOU WANT TO LEAVE ME. _

_ You can’t blame me for it, _ Harry fell back with trepidation in his soul. He drew back completely, slinking back into the shadows of sensory loneliness.

_ I CAN. BLAME IS EVERY PERSON’S RIGHT, IS IT NOT? ON OUR TALK — YOU WANT TO LEAVE. SO LEAVE. _

_ But— _

_ I CAN FIND YOU WHENEVER, HOWEVER, WHEREVER. YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR, NOTHING TO GIVE. EVERYTHING TO TAKE. _

He considered the opening, the escape.

_ WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? _

Harry fell into the hole, tumbling down into the darkness and void.

_ GOODBYE TO YOU. _

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  


The corridor was black and lightless, but Harry saw his body as well as he felt it. He was walking, he realized with a start, walking towards an end he did not see nor know. All he could do was follow the track of black, and more black, and black forever...

The shiver of a thread pulled his attention. He saw the tingle of white just before it appeared, the spectre. 

She was plain, but she had a pair of eyes and a fully functioning nose which let her breathe. Harry decided she was beautiful and gave her a nod he as passed her —  _ Merlin, _ that was an odd feeling to have. 

What was he doing all by his lonesome? Where was he walking and who was his white rabbit in the wonderland? 

He felt like he knew her, he noticed. It was the little things: The shape of her nose’s arch and the corners of her mouth, the sides of her chin and the slope of her neck. It was the little things, the small clues he didn’t remember where he learned from. 

_ “He waits for you,”  _ she whispered. Compared to the boom of Death’s voice, the ghost was soft-spoken and quiet. The tunes of her mutter made him dizzy, relaxed with true vibrations in his ears.  _ Music _ it was, the sound of a human.

_ “Who?” _ he thought to ask, but she had already disappeared.

  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  


Stumbling out of the portal was akin to walking through a veil, gossamer and hazy. Harry walked to the dim light -- it blinded his eyes, it  _ burned his eyes  _ \-- and lifted the drapes over his shoulders.

What he saw, sorrow falling over him, was what he knew was the corpse of the woman he passed by. She was slack on the wooden table, blood and the water of her womb gathered under her and seeping to the floor.

By her side was an elderly woman who held a baby in her arms, mumbling about as she wrapped it between fabric and wool.

“Sarah, get me the milk, will you?” she called to the girl by the door. “Wee kid, got to have his meal too.”

“Did she name him, Mrs. Cole?” Sarah asked her and the matron shook her head.

Harry watched wide eyed suddenly, breathless and cold -- warmth suffusing him at the same time, tears gathering in his eyes and shaking.

_ “Tom Riddle, for his father _ she said--” Harry knew those words by heart, formed them on his lips as Mrs. Cole spoke. “ _ \--Marvolo _ , after her father. A weird lass, I say. Who names his son Marvolo?”

“Did you get her name?”

“I did not! Girl kicked the bucket before she could. Now get me the milk, there’s a hungry child here!”

Harry walked forward, the shadow of death still hanging onto him, and caressed Merope Gaunt’s hair. It was coarse and wavy, fell down where her head was tipped back by gravity. The sensation whizzed up his fingers, up his arms and up his shoulder. It had been long,  _ too long  _ since he touched something. 

He could cry. He could cry,  _ he could-- _

And the twisting burn of his eyes, the closing up of his throat were real too. The rapid breaths he took, the trembling of his weak appendages were as real as could be.

He was back,  _ everything was fine! _

Tom Riddle sang his first scream, however, and Harry’s euphoric state broke apart. He turned to the baby wailing for his mother, for the fire in his lungs and the emptiness in his stomach. Harry wept at the sight of him. Wanting to sink down on his knees and crawl, he approached the baby with small, soft steps.

Tom’s face was nothing like how he would be. Wasn’t it fascinating how similar babies looked, despite what they’d grow to be? And Harry was there to see the Dark Lord’s first breaths.

He couldn’t stop the shivers from overtaking his body, hunched over and eyes misty as he was.

What was he going to do now?

_ How _ was he going to do?

Had he made a mistake? Was his eager exclamations for the past just that? The eagerness of a teenager long beyond redemption, longing for the nostalgia left behind?

_ “Who _ are you?”

Harry turned around to see Mrs. Cole, watching him with keen eyes and the aura of danger radiating from her. So he righted himself, tried to make some sense of where his appendages and lips were, and tried to speak.

_ “Ahem,” _ was the first thing that came out of his mouth. “Hel- _ Hello.” _

“Are you the father?” she asked right off the bat. “If so, she’s already dead -- so you might as well take the baby and leave. We don’t really have the funds for another one.”

“I--” Harry racked his mind for words to talk with. “No, I’m just a -- a family friend.”

“Close enough.” Mrs. Cole rummaged around in a drawer for a rug, whipping it out clean of dust and quickly wrapping Tom Riddle in it. Seeing him standing there shell-shocked, she didn’t waste a second and pushed the baby into his slack arms. He couldn’t hold firmly yet, so he had a scare of almost dropping him, but she rescued them swiftly.

“Be careful how you handle ‘im!” she admonished. “Goodness, don’t you know how to hold a toddler?!”

“S-Sorry.”

She eyed him with a suspicious air and sniffed in derision, “Can’t even handle a wee kid like this, I’m not so sure I should give ‘im over to you, sir.” Eyeing him a bit more closely, “Jesus, are you even  _ old  _ enough to look after it? I didn’t notice it but lad -- you sure look young enough to be  _ my  _ son!”

“I…”

Harry didn’t know if he was ready for this --  _ if he could be ready, if ever, if never,  _ ** _what if--_ **

“I’ll take him,” he told her, obviously surprising her with his new, shaky vigor. He took Tom into his arms carefully, trying not to jostle him too much, then stared at the tiny face, forlorn.

Mrs. Cole nodded, slow and hesitant. “...If yer sure.”

“Goodbye.”

“Take care of ‘im, I tell you.” She left the room without sparing them a glance.

***

Harry was out, stuck in front of the orphanage’s gates without any idea what to do.

Where could he go? No -- where  _ should  _ he go? He didn’t know what to do, he never really knew these times. If he was correct, this was close to… 1925? Or the 30s? What was the exchange rate of galleons to pounds now? What did looking after a baby by himself require?

Then, he realized with a _chilling fear,_ **_did he even have money with him?_**

Money,  _ just some,  _ how could he find it? Did Tom need feeding yet? How did one take care of a newborn baby? Even with his own children, Ginny had largely taken over their care -- not that Harry never changed nappies or fed them, but by the time he was around to  _ do  _ those things, he had already missed most of their firsts because of work.

How could he  _ ever  _ look after a baby?

_ I could make do,  _ he thought with subsiding panic.  _ I could probably do it. Nothing is impossible! Surely, baby Tom and I’ll be okay? Surely I can keep him alive and well? Safe and sound? _

With that thought, he strode without knowing where he was going, the feeling of pebbles beneath his feet --  _ his covered feet  _ \-- wrecking his senses.

***

When Harry finally found the house, Tom had already screamed himself hoarse crying for food. Both of them were exhausted, weary and hungry -- looking for shelter and warmth and just something close to comfort.

Harry found an empty house, in his desperation. The family had a few photos on the coffee table, a few simple furniture and a considerable amount of kitchen utensils in one of the drawers. He surmised it must be a big family, probably with every branch of them living together. It took a whole another level to keep up with so many members’ needs.

Biting his lip, Harry went back to the poor baby. Tom had fallen asleep from his ceaseless screams, silent for once. Harry had never been so guilty and so regretful and  _ ashamed  _ of thinking,  _ ‘Finally shut your mouth, huh?’ _

But he had to consider the  _ milk. _

He gasped in horror and clamped a hand against his mouth, falling backwards onto a sofa.

_ Milk. _

How could he forget the  _ milk? _

_ How the  _ ** _fuck _ ** _ was Harry going to get milk? _

“Merlin,” he swore again, eyes clouded over. “I’m sorry,  _ I’m so sorry.” _

He didn’t know if he was apologizing for —  _ for his utter uselessness,  _ or just for being unable to satisfy the child. He didn’t know where to get milk, where to get nappies, where to get  _ anything.  _

And the truth stood.

_ He had no means to look after Tom. _

But — But he had to _persevere. _This was how ordinary parents felt like, wasn’t it? Harry could make do with something. He could… He could beg? For some food, maybe beg for the _damn_ _milk?_

***

A few hours later, Tom had woken up quite suddenly and started screaming again. Harry was miserable with his own shattered eardrums and Tom’s own horrifying screeches. Tearing himself apart, wondering what to do, he finally decided he  _ couldn’t _ do this.

He simply  _ couldn’t. _

He wasn’t able. Hell, he wasn’t even  _ okay!  _ Just recently, he had picked a fork and  _ deliberately pricked his finger on it, just to see if he could  _ ** _feel _ ** _ the pain. _

And if he had been someone else, there was no way he would allow himself near  _ any  _ child _ . _

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded as he took Tom into his arms. There were still tear tracks on the baby’s face. “I’m — I’m  _ sorry,  _ but if you stay with me, I’ll…”

He sniffled and forced down a sob.

“I’ll surely _kill_ you like this!”

  
  
  


***

Harry found himself, just twelve hours later, in front of Wool’s once again.

“Sorry,” he said as he handed Tom over to a furious Mrs. Cole. “You were right — I can’t look after him. Can you—“

“Of course we will,” she cut him off, quite curtly. “I told  _ you  _ that it’d be better to leave ‘im here.”

“I was wrong,” he continued. “I — I didn’t know what to do afterwards. I don’t even know how I could get milk for him.”

“You don’t  _ get  _ milk for him, stupid boy. You go to the government and get a nanny for it!” She slapped him on the head with a rolled-up newspaper and took the baby. “I see you’re no good. Leave now.”

“Will you…” He hesitated.

_ Merlin. _

Tom was going to be so  _ lonely. _

Harry could feel the tears gather just imagining it: Tom, approaching his tenth birthday, asking whether or not he had another parent. Mrs. Cole answering with a frozen sneer,  _ ‘You had a family friend, but he left you here to rot like the demon you are!’ _

** _He couldn’t let it happen. _ ** No matter what, Harry could never wish for a child to be burdened like that — wondering why he was abandoned, why that stranger never came again,  _ if  _ he was going to come again. 

_ Wondering if it was  _ ** _his own _ ** _ fault,  _ maybe.

“Will you please tell him,” he told her. “That I’ll come back for him? Once I’m — Once I’m able to?”

She looked him over, as suspicious as she had been the first time they met, and soured her face. “I don’t see why not. Go now. You probably need a job, looking like a ruffian like that.”

Harry was thrown out without much fanfare, desolate and cold and  _ alone. _

He stood back up, wiped his eyes, then started walking.

_ (Pebbles under his feet.) _

***

Harry came back to the empty house. He had asked around and learned that the family was on vacation. Taking advantage and feeling a bit like Slughorn, he took residence in the small home.

Even without Tom by his side, he knew he had to get some money from  _ somewhere.  _ He thought about doing menial jobs, but he wasn’t sturdy enough for lifting and such. Added with his scrawny, teenage body, he wasn’t sure anyone would hire him. 

So, so far, his luck hadn’t shown its face. He spent a few days eating the fruits of some trees nearby, and drinking water from a river in the forest he had once apparated to. But the gnawing in the depths of his stomach scared him of dying,  _ of being unable to die once again,  _ so Harry was left to raid others’ pantries at night.

He didn’t take too much, he couldn’t afford to be obvious. They would be too cautious at night, otherwise. 

That was one thing he couldn’t afford at the moment.

He spent his days outside, watching the rainfall and the clouds floating lazily. Sometimes he went without his shoes, just to see how it felt to  _ feel,  _ to be  _ connected to something. _

Air felt like heaven to him. The moss under his feet soothed him.

The sky blessed him with its colors.

***

On one day he was out wandering the foliage, Harry stopped at a feeling of familiarity.

This wasn’t the feeling he sought, it wasn’t a  _ feeling.  _ It was a numb, quiet silence — a silence that felt  _ too  _ ** _close_ ** _ . _

  
  
  


_ It was nothing all over again. _

  
  
  


Harry shivered under the void of senses, burrowing his toes deeper into the earth, and whispered — as though afraid…

“Is that you?”

  
  
  


_ ARE YOU ENJOYING YOUR STAY? _

  
  


He flinched again at the —  _ voice,  _ he should have said, but it wasn’t a voice — and fell on his arse, the mud cushioning the fall. “I never thought you could have…”

_ WHAT,  _ it asked as if offended.  _ COULD NOT HAVE MANIFESTED IN THE UNIVERSE? I AM DEATH, HARRY. _

He was suddenly overtaken by a need to turn around and  _ see,  _ but he could not quite act on it — could not get over the irrational, terrifying thought of it. Harry stared straight ahead and did not look away.

_ ARE YOU FINALLY SATISFIED? _

“How could I be  _ satisfied?”  _ he threw back, afraid and angry at the same time. “You take me away, make me go mad, throw me in the middle of nowhere and  _ are now  _ ** _visiting _ ** _ me.  _ What else could go  _ wrong?” _

_ YOU FORGET YOU HAVE A CHANCE TO USE YOUR SENSORY PERCEPTIONS AGAIN,  _ it pointed out amusedly. 

“I know. It’s —  _ amazing.  _ Awe-inspiring.”

_ YOU FLATTER ME. TELL ME THEN, ARE YOU WILLING TO SEE THE END OF THE ROAD? TO CONSUME EVERYTHING AND FINALLY LAY TO REST? HUMANS AND US ARE SEPARATE CREATURES, HARRY, NO MATTER HOW ALIKE THEM YOU ARE. _

“...I’m human,” Harry spoke, voice shaky with hot fury. “I’m human, and I’m not the one treating everything like — like a pleasant  _ tea party!” _

_ WELL, YOU SHOULD GATHER YOUR WITS TOGETHER SOON THEN. _

  
  
  


The nonexistent feeling faded into the leaves, the flowers, the oak trees. Harry felt more alone than before, to which he was grateful.

Nearby, he saw an orchid’s wilting petals — browned pink and soft rigor mortis on its skin.

** _Am I human as I was?_ **

  
  


***

  
  


Harry went to watch him.

_ Just once, just this once. _

Walking along the hedge, disillusioned, he saw glimpses of a child in dark colors and small stature. 

It  _ was _ Tom. Harry’s eyes weren’t lying to him.

He wiped the dampness away and continued to stare, memorizing the curves of his chin and the slope of his tiny nose.

_ Tom. Little Tom. _

_ I hope you aren’t miserable there. _

** _Just a little bit, a little bit more. I’ll come back for you soon!_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My exam week is approaching, so you know not to expect an update too soon. I think I’ll update on the New Year’s though
> 
> EDIT: I made a playlist of this fic, on Spotify if you wanna listen. Link underneath:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2RjqPqNvIIgClVbLtKLwl7

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone for reading!


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